


Broken shards of the love we’ve been collecting (are piling up)

by uraniafromspace



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22686430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uraniafromspace/pseuds/uraniafromspace
Summary: He wasn’t sure of where they stood in their relationship, which makes him disconcerted. It’s not like they were a couple, they weren’t even going out, for Christ’s sake, and what they had couldn’t even be described as a fling as it was. They had slept together twice. But he still felt it wouldn’t be very considerate on his part to engage in a flirtatious conversation in front of Casey. (And Derek Venturi was nothing if not a gentleman).
Relationships: Casey McDonald/Derek Venturi
Comments: 22
Kudos: 185





	Broken shards of the love we’ve been collecting (are piling up)

**I.**  
The first time it happens, they’re fighting. (And that’s a given). 

It starts out pretty normally (because of the remote, duh). Except now they are three years into college and they should have passed that phase by now. They shouldn’t fight because of the remote anymore, because it always ended up the same: Derek pinning her to the ground or couch and taking it from her hands, while she screeched and screamed his name (really, she thought she could take him on when he was one of the hockey team’s stars? Puh-lease. Casey had always been stubborn, but this was too much for even her).

So they are living together, and the Maple Leafs have a game starting in five minutes, but Casey is watching a documentary about some feminist revolution or something equally boring and meaningless that no one but her actually cares about. So he asks politely for her to change the channel (he has grown quite a bit since his high school days, or maybe he’s just become lazier, college takes a toll on the best of them. Either way, he gives her a chance to surrender without a fight, but she is a determined soldier, one task at hand and willing to die for her cause).

He has no other choice but to jump her and grab it from her delicate hands. He is going to pin her under him like he did a thousand other times, but she tickles him and he falls to the ground with a dull thud and a girly squeak.

He stares at her for a moment, baffled, eyebrows raised.

“That was cheating and you know it.”

She stares back at him just as determined as he is to get what she wants (it’s a miracle the house has never burned to the ground). 

“ _You_ don’t play fair.”

“ _I_ am not a keener for the rules.”

The thing Derek knew he could always count on about Casey was that she was supposed to be a fair player, and predictable and easy to subjugate. But she had sat on the couch, arms crossed, smirking at him while he was on the floor of their tiny apartment, studying her with a frown. 

“You are asking for trouble, McDonald.”

He jumped her again, angry that she was making him miss the start of the game. By sheer luck, he grabbed the remote from her hands and, victoriously, went to sit on his chair. (Easy as taking candy from a child).

But on that particular day, Casey was being extremely stubborn. She pouted and he dreaded it when she sucked in a mouthful of air, preparing herself for a speech.

“Der-ek! I’m tired of you always hogging the remote. I am _never_ able to watch anything and forced to rely _solely_ on your decency and goodness of your heart– which are sorely lacking, to say the least, to see my shows. This situation is greatly unjust. Therefore, I decided to stop your reign of tyranny.” 

He rolled his eyes, half distracted by the ongoing game.

“Quit whining, head case, or I promise you the sports channel is the only thing we’re going to be watching for all of next week.”

She pouted and glared at him. That made her look like the girl he had met at fifteen again and he never to failed to be annoyed that that was the expression she used when she was upset and wanted to have an advantage against him.

It never worked, though.

(It always did).

Suddenly, Casey jumped to his lap in a final and desperate attempt to try and pry the remote from his hands, a cheeky retort dying in his throat before he could muster it.

“Let me have it!” Casey said, stretching herself so she could grab it from him as he leaned as far back on his recliner as was humanly possible. He thought distractedly to himself that she shouldn’t lean too much, or else she would risk (considering it was Casey, that risk was almost a fact) falling down and showing him a glimpse of the underwear under her skirt, which Derek wanted to avoid at _all_ costs. He’d rather not be aware Casey’s lady parts existed or what covered them (he hoped it was lacy black, but knew it was probably one of her cotton whites).

“Give up, Klutzilla!”

“Not this time, Derek!”

She had finally reached his hands, and he found her breasts were right there, on his face, her body pressed so tight against him he could barely move.

Without a way out, he thought his only viable course of action was to gross Casey so much she would leave the room screaming in disgust.

He put his mouth next to where her neck and her ear met, and spoke against it. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

Then he licked her, slow, from clavicle bone to under her chin.

Though instead of recoiling in disgust as Derek had foreseen, Casey arched her back against him and sucked in a deep breath. 

His mind short-circuited. 

The thing to know about Derek is... he was a horny bastard. And one that had already had a few (many) dreams about his keener stepsister in scenarios that weren’t particularly brotherly. 

Her left hand, the one that had been on his shoulder for support, scratched him through the shirt, and his own treacherous fingers grabbed her hips tightly, holding her right there where he needed her.

He licked her again, on the shoulders, where the straps of her top were easy to slide off, on the top of her breasts, her neck, everywhere he could reach.

Then his tongue had suddenly been replaced by his lips on her feverish skin (were they sick? It felt like they were burning). Casey’s head fell back, and that exposed the delicate curve of her neck to his prying mouth.

Derek touched it like it would break (it wasn’t normal how she was bending backwards). 

He brought her head close to his, and she rose above him, her fingers like a vice grip to his scalp. He pulled her down to him as she kissed him hard and, for a moment, Derek lost track of who he was and what he was doing. 

When Derek registered, his shirt was gone and he had ridden up Casey's flimsy top over her chest. He could only be thankful that she didn’t wear a bra at home when he dove his head and sucked on one of her nipples, and _God_ , everything would be so much easier if they solved all their problems like this. 

Casey was squeezing his biceps and whimpering quietly.

He let go with a pop, his eyes dazed as he watched her, all hazy eyes and swollen lips, moving her hands with a dexterity he felt was impossible for him to conjure up right then. She unbuckled his belt and undid his zipper, barely giving him enough time to register what was happening.

Casey held him in the hot palm of her hand, while he took advantage of the fact she was wearing a skirt and pulled her panties aside. 

It was hard and fast, and the whole thing lasted less than ten minutes, but Derek’s scalp was aching when they finished, and Casey’s hips would probably be bruised the next morning.

Casey collapsed against him for a minute, and Derek felt maybe he had taken all words out of her (a small victory in the midst of this mistake). 

He rested his head back with a sigh, and that was all Casey needed for a major freak out. (At least he thought so, for she wouldn’t look at him).

She got up so fast he swore she would be dizzy, hands settling her clothes as she looked everywhere but him. 

She left for her room without saying good night, but she fell on her way there, and it felt a little like winning.

(It wouldn’t feel like winning when he lay his head on the pillow that night and remembered her moaning when she came).

Casey was prone to overthinking, and Derek was okay with that, it was one of those Casey things he’d tried to fix but had ultimately gotten used to and learned to accept. He was even able to foresee things that would tick her, and he’d used it to play her when he wanted, like an enchanter (if he did this, she’d roll that way, and if he did that, she’d scream his name).

So he knew having sex with her would probably be the only thing that would drive her away. 

If he allowed himself to think about it (which wasn’t needed, because he _never_ thought about it), he would have said this should have been his ultimate prank, something that would shake Casey so much it would make her question _everything_ she knew.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise when she starts to ignore him. That was okay. Casey just needed time and space to figure things out.

Derek knew it was just sex, and it didn’t have to mean anything at all. Like eating a bagel. You felt like it, you did it, it served to satiate a passing hunger and that was all there was to it.

Derek understood they were different (they had always been separated by pink and blue), and that was okay.

She avoids him afterwards for as long as she is able to, which turns out to be a month and, considering they live together, this is quite a feat.

But then, when he gets home from practice one day, she is there, perched on the edge of the couch, probably caught mid-thought, considering to flight or stay, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights.

He waits for her to run, and she fidgets under his stare, but remains resolutely on her place.

He sits on his chair, acting as if any sudden movements would scare her off (though maybe he _should_ move like the amazing troglodyte that he was capable of being, and then he idly wonders why he didn’t choose that course of action). Casey pretends he isn’t there.

He has no idea of what they are watching right now, and he thinks maybe she doesn’t either. It could have been Dora the Explorer for all he knew.

“I’m not going to change the channel.”

She holds the small device in her delicate hands (hands that had touched him everywhere), and he sees the determination by the set of her jaw.

“Too tired to beat the remote out of you anyway, princess.”

They stay there until the wee hours of the night, and she falls asleep on the couch, clutching the remote to her chest.

It doesn’t feel like a victory, but it doesn’t taste like losing either.

Nothing ever happened, he thinks to himself during a particularly boring class of Sociology (would someone remind him why he had taken that elective? For all he cared, Marx was a highly glorified version of Santa Claus), and he still saw Casey as the keener, klutzy stepsister she had always been, though her position as an asexual being had been compromised due to previous, perfectly concluded developments (That would have been hypocritical of him, and, for all of the many flaws in his character Casey loved to constantly remind him of, this was not one of them).

She still woke him up when he missed his alarms, washed all of his clothes even though they were still perfectly good to use, used underhanded methods so that she could watch The Handmaid’s Tale (namely: tears) and begged him not to buy her chocolate when she was PMSing. (Casey in her period was even more insufferable than normally, so buying her chocolate was more of a present Derek gave _himself._ Not that she needed that little piece of information).

So they hadn’t talked about it, which Derek could only see as an advantage. But he was worried about a Casey Major Meltdown (her ignoring him was just avoidance, some minor disturbance before The Big Show). She was pretending nothing had happened (not that he cared much about it, it was just a bit unusual for her) when it had. 

Derek knew that, and he wasn’t running. The difference between them was only in how they handled it. He accepted that maybe, for some crazy reason he couldn’t fathom, a teensy tiny part of him might have thought she was attractive, but he didn’t think Casey was ready to make the same concession about him, small as it was. 

Because he accepted it, he knew he would be able to put her out of his mind (not that she was ever there in the first place).

He was ready to move forward and forget about that thing, like water in a river. 

She is trying to reach the sugar in the top shelf on their kitchen, and she is frowning in concentration, body stretched to its limit.

He lazily observes her before his body decides to create a mind of its own and move by itself toward her. Slowly, he puts himself behind her, left arm resting in the counter beside her hip. He lifts his right hand and reaches for the pack, the front of his body almost touching the back of hers. Her shoulders tense, and her breathing is heavy.

He puts it on the counter, in front of her. 

A beat, and silence. 

“Thanks.”

He stands close, breathes quietly next to the soft curve of her neck. He wants to say something funny that will have her turning and breaking his name, so he can shut her up with a kiss. He can almost picture her sitting on the counter, sugar forgotten, while he roams his hands through her soft curves. 

The thought is fleeting (but it lingers in the back of his mind for a long while).

“The only thanks I need are chocolate chip pancakes.”

He smirks and leaves, without ever understanding the inner workings of his brain. 

She is studying on the couch, a pen hanging by her mouth and he peruses her form (He remembered the taste of those lips). 

She takes it to the paper, writes something off and lays it beside her. She stretches, arms above her head, arching her back, exposes her neck, and it’s almost the same thing she did when she was in his lap, moaning while she rode him. 

Her shirt rides up and exposes a flash of the skin underneath, and it didn’t have to look as appealing as it does. 

She sees him watching her from the kitchen, a glass of water in hand (right, that’s what he’d come here to do) and says nothing.

Some things are better left unsaid.

“I’m not paying for you, Space Case.”

She put her foot down. For all she complained about his immaturity, he thought she was the one who never quite grew. 

“Der-ek, please! You put oil in my shampoo, so I had to buy a new one, and it is so expensive. I have no money to order, and, once more, you are the catalyst of my misfortunes. Therefore, you should have the decency to pay for me.”

He rolls his eyes. Casey sometimes is just insufferable, and he thinks she lives to nag herself into his existence.

“I don’t tell you to buy expensive shit, princess, and it’s not my fault you don’t appreciate a good joke.”

She rolled her eyes back and crossed her arms. They walked forward in the line. 

“I thought we were past shampoo pranks. It’s been years since you pulled that, I stopped checking the bottles.”

She looks sheepish, like she has just admitted defeat. He points a finger to his head, like the evil mastermind that he is. 

“Hence the genius of my plan.”

Casey looks at him with big mocking eyes, voice dripping with sweetness when she speaks.

“Congratulations, D, you learned a new word! I didn’t know your 60 point IQ could handle any more strain.”

“The only thing that’s lower than my IQ is your utter inability to tell a decent joke, Case, but nice try, I’ll tell the teacher to put a star on your name for the effort.” 

She was about to retort, when the person ahead finally finished their order. 

“Oh, look, it’s my turn.”

Derek turns and makes a point to put an extra dose of sarcasm when he orders a large coffee with lots of cream and sugar. Though it all seems pointless when Casey screams from behind him “and a latte!”

He stares at her, sees big blue eyes and a little pout (damn, she did this on purpose). He turned to the barista.

“A very small, barely there one for Miss _Klutzilla_.”

Casey frowns and stares at him agape. She doesn’t thank him, but she doesn’t break his name either. 

_This_ is growing up, he thinks to himself as he steals a glance to observe her sipping her drink from the corner of his eyes.

It’s a night they come home wasted. They happen to be at the same party, she needs to go home and the party is lame, anyways, so he takes her (they live at the same place, so he’s actually just making her company. It’s not as if he is making her a favor or being kind, it just happens to be convenient).

They arrive miraculously unharmed and well (they weren’t _that_ drunk, anyway, more like buzzed, and this was _not drunk talk_ , they really were _fine_ , look at him standing in one foot, - for a second before he falls).

He takes Casey to her bedroom, and she has that shitty idea that he should just sleep there with her. Derek point blank refuses, but she insists, whining in that way only Casey knows how, and maybe he should have realized how hammered he actually was, because it takes only one more “please, Der-ek", for him to be slipping out of his jeans and sliding right beside her.

He lays there for a while, awake in her tiny single bed, on his back. Casey snuggles into him, wrapping his chest in her arm, like a teddy bear. 

He stares at the ceiling for a minute, until her breathing soothes him and he is lulled into slumber.

Derek wakes up the next day with a warm breath tickling his neck, and his memories are fuzzy and hazy, and anyways, all he has to know is that there is a girl beside him, snuggling up to him, so he kisses her neck and ears until she is awake, and kissing his lips.

There is a moment he is kissing her, breathless and senseless, until she says his name in the breathiest, sexiest way someone could ever say it, breaking it in half. 

He pulls her under him before he can stop himself and rationalize that this is actually _Casey,_ his keener step-sister, and that he is going to make yet (another) mistake with her (he doesn’t give a shit).

It’s all clothes getting shed, and flesh exposed, her lips on his shoulders and going further down, until he stops thinking and “ _Fuck, Case"_ , with his hands holding her hair. 

Derek stops her before this little business finishes too early, and she takes that opportunity to straddle him, and he can do nothing but comply while she slides on him, exposing the curve of her neck for his eyes to stare at. He grabs her hips while she rides him, trying to focus, to last until she comes. 

His toes curl when he finishes, right after her, and thank _God_ he could wait, because the sight of Casey over him, eyes closed, mouth open uttering his name like a gasp wouldn’t be able to leave his mind for a while. 

She collapses into him, and he kisses her temples, cradling her next to him. It only takes a few minutes for her to doze off, and he is quite content to follow after her. 

**II.**  
Afterwards, they fully wake up, curled together and naked. 

Derek would have felt remorse, but it was hard when he felt like he could take the world. 

But then Casey turns, shutting him out, and quietly sobs onto her pillow, and this, this brings a pang to his gut that makes it hard to swallow. He refuses to acknowledge the feeling, so he just rubs her back, and tells her it’s okay. 

It’s a few minutes later when she forces her tears to stop, resolutely faces the ceiling and addresses it in a quiet murmur, voice thin as paper, heavy as lead.

“You should leave now". 

And it doesn’t bug him at all that she stares at the wall while he collects his clothes and shuts the door. (Only maybe just a little).

He expects a full blown out Casey Cry Fest, but he is sorely disappointed. 

Nothing ever happened. 

(Nothing ever did). 

And try as he might, Derek would never be able to make a lie work like Casey did denial.

(He pretends not to hear her sobbing when he comes home from practice every evening).

It’s not like Derek had banned the subject from his mind. He had deemed okay to think about it. Not always, but sometimes. 

It’s not like he could forget what it was like when she came. For better or worse, the image was forever etched into his brain, like a picture with too much saturation, the colors vibrant and popping. Besides, it was impossible for him not to think about it, because everywhere he looked there Casey was.

She was in the books she had on the living room’s shelf, on the strawberry shampoo she had in the bathroom, in the healthy food she had in the freezer, and even in the study schedule she had hanged out in his desk. 

But worst of all, was how she had glued herself to his head, and he just couldn’t rip her out, as hard as he tried.

Their parents call them one weekend, before Nora’s birthday. 

Casey tells her mother she can’t make it back home, how sad she is about it, but her mother tells her not to worry too much, she knew where Casey’s heart was, and the sentiment is what mattered. 

The truth is that Nora isn’t too concerned her elders can’t be with her. She’s had time to adjust to them not being there anymore, and has filled the space they vacated with other activities. It’s not like they weren’t missed, but she was a busy woman, and didn’t have time to dwell on her feelings when there was so much to be done.

The kids make a fuss, and Marti is a little down that they’re not coming, but is otherwise well. Everyone screams for a while, and they get an update on Edwin’s possible girlfriend, Lizzie’s stellar win in the soccer competition, Marti’s projects in art class and Robbie’s progress in school. 

When it’s time to hang up, their littlest brother tells them goodbye in his sweet, small child’s voice. 

Casey looks right back at Derek then, and he feels the guilt creeping up on her, but she manages out a strangled reply. He sounds better, if not a little detached, but he has more to worry about than how he looks to a family (their family) living five hours away, especially when Casey looks like she is about to have the Freak Out of the Decade. 

He stares at her, tries to catch her eyes (he’s not worried, he’s just mildly concerned). He sees her gulp. She passes her hands through the locks of her hair, until her fingers cover her face from his view. 

He gets closer to her. 

“Casey.” 

She can barely reply, voice restrained, pained. 

“Derek, please. Don’t.” 

She doesn’t look like she knows how to breathe anymore, and she is crying, thick fast splotches of water dripping from her chin where he can spot them falling. 

It’s not as if he likes seeing Casey getting hurt. Yeah, he has been known to make her suffer, squirm, get angry. But if he is being completely honest with himself (a rarity) Casey crying pulls something in his heartstrings. 

“Look, Casey. I know this is fucked up, but listen. It’s okay.”

She cries more, if that’s possible, and he refuses to believe he is getting anxious too, even though the air he pulls can’t seem to be enough to fill his lungs. He’d rather just believe it’s because Casey is breathing all the oxygen in the room.

He gets closer still, puts a hand on her knee. 

“It’s going to be okay.”

That doesn’t make her stop. At this point she is flooding their living room with all the waters of the Pacific Ocean, and he thinks he might drown if he allows himself to be pulled by the tide she is creating. 

He hugs her (he doesn’t know what else to do), pats her back. She crawls on to him like he is the only thing keeping her sane. Maybe he is. 

Maybe if he lets her go, they will both fall apart. 

So he holds her to his chest, lets her cry on his shoulder, does breathing techniques with her, sucking all the air they can from one to four, then exhaling one to eight. 

When they finish, she is calmer. 

Casey sits on his lap, blue eyes red, face puffed. She sniffs in his shoulder, looking down.

“You better now?”

She stares at him for a second, and he takes her in, runny nose and messed up hair and all. 

“Yeah. Thanks, Derek.”

“No worries, Spacey.” 

Casey gives him a tight smile, before quickly raising and locking herself into her room. 

Derek remains in the living room until the wee hours of morning. And even after he’s gone to bed, he is awake for a long time, mind racing, thinking. 

**III.**  
He sees her at a bar in town on a Friday night after midterms. She is sitting with her friends on the stools near the bartender, and he is with his friends in one of the booths, facing the door. He is not with the guys from the team, because they’re cool, but they can be a little _too much_ at times. Like Casey. (Except not really).

He spots her the minute she walks in, in tight jeans that makes his mouth dry.

He goes to pick up the next round of drinks after everyone is finished, standing and heading for the bar. She notices him when he makes his way there, raising a sheepish hand to wave at him, uncertain smile gracing her lips. Derek smirks back at her, like he is used to seeing her out, in a bar, at a Friday night, every week.

He knows Casey leaves the house, but sometimes he forgets she has a social life too, sparse and precarious as it is. Derek is aware that she goes out sometimes, but he just assumes she is in the library, or museums, art galleries, or plays, not anywhere _normal_ for a college kid. 

He is casually waiting for the bartender to produce all of the drinks he asked for, when a cute girl stops by his side to make her order and smiles in his direction. 

There is this brief moment when he is conflicted, if should act up on his opportunity or just let it slide. It’s a first for him to be out, with Casey around, and a cute girl throwing flirty glances his way, after what happened, and he isn’t sure of what to do. 

So he taps the counter with his fingers, trying not to look like he is weighing his options in his hand. He wasn’t sure of where they stood in their relationship, which makes him disconcerted. It’s not like they were a couple, they weren’t even _going out_ , for Christ’s sake, and what they had couldn’t even be described as a fling as it was. They had slept together twice. But he still felt it wouldn’t be very considerate on his part to engage in a flirtatious conversation in front of Casey. (And Derek Venturi was nothing if not a gentleman). 

To wrap up the weirdness, she was his step sister and roommate, and, even though he liked to get on her nerves once in a while, he absolutely _did not_ want to aggravate the situation in any way, shape or form (God, that line sounds so much like something Casey would say). 

Suffice to say, he is caught between panicked and relieved to have that decision taken from him when the girl in question starts a conversation with him. (I mean, it’d be rude not to talk back, right? He’s just answering, sue him for it).

She seems cool and easy going. Uncomplicated. 

He chances a look Casey’s way, and briefly catches her in the process of diverting her gaze from where he stands.

The bartender delivers him his order, and he excuses himself, drawing back to his booth. 

He sits directly facing Casey, so he spots her playing with the glass of her drink. She sips it quietly, no traces of a smile on her face, then peeks at him for only a second before looking away. 

He half smirks to his beer, before downing it all with one swing. 

When he is leaving, he passes through her and ruffles her hair. She screeches his name, but it only makes him laugh.

Casey comes to watch his hockey games. She stands amongst the crowd screaming his name, and it’s not like he hears her from the rink, but it’s nice to know she is there, cheering.

This game is one of the particularly brutal ones, more elbows and pushes than actual tactic plays, and Derek loses count of how many times he gets knocked down (at least as many as he knocks the other team, which is a victory, in his mind).

They get a narrow win, barely managing to score in the last minutes of the game. The guys are all angry but happy on the lockers, cursing the other team, just the usual. 

Derek is one of the last ones to leave (he needed a long hot shower to soothe his aching body), and is met by an angry Casey, arms crossed over her chest and a frown between her brows.

She immediately paces his way when she spots him.

“Are you insane? I thought you’d die.”

He snorts. 

“Not by a long shot, Spacey. No one can kill me that easily.”

She puts her hands on her hips, and he feels a speech coming his way. He puts a finger on her lips, virtually shutting her up before she can make him wish he was deaf. Derek stares right at her, and places his left hand on her shoulder.

“Save it for some other day, babe.”

He can feel the urge she has to break his name, to fight him with every ounce of her body. He lifts an eyebrow at her and she groans. 

“Fine. Let’s just go, this place is freezing.”

He rolls his eyes at her. Only Casey would wear a light jacket for a hockey game. 

“It’s a hockey rink, it’s fucking cold. Why did you come with just that coat? Jesus, Casey, you want to get hypothermia? Just take this.”

Derek takes off his jacket and shoves it on her face. She eyes it with as much disgust as one can possibly have.

“I don’t want to wear your filthy jacket, it’s full of germs.”

He isn’t very fazed, stares her right back, arms still clutching the offending item of clothing in front of her. 

“Well, it’s either die of cold or by infection. You choose.”

She takes it, making a point of showcasing her loathe while she picks it up and dresses it. 

“Whatever.”

“Now, go fast, before _I_ freeze.”

He can swear Casey strolls down the corridors in the most leisurely pace she could. (He is certain she does it on purpose when they reach the front doors and she throws him the sweetest smile).

Casey has a little plant she calls Merle. It’s a ridiculous name for a ridiculous _pet_ (or so she insists it is). Derek can barely acknowledge it exists. 

He is actually quite surprised she has managed to keep it alive as long as it is, but, well, that’s life. Always surprising. 

So she has to travel for a week, something about a seminar of some sort, he is not really sure or cares much about it. He just knows it’s in Quebec, and she has been dying to practice her French, which is all the incentive she needs to head there and for him to be stuck with Merle for what could have been eternity (does he look like he is responsible enough to be taking care of plants? He doesn’t think so).

Before she goes, she gives him a stern lecture on how he should take care of it, about its sunbathes, feeding habits (he laughs out loud when she says that, but she doesn’t really see the fun) and general areas of the house it enjoys to be. 

And then she is gone, and Derek is stuck in a fun week alone with his pal Merle. 

The thing is. He hates that thing. It’s not even a pretty plant, doesn’t have any flowers or is very luscious. It’s rather scrawny, like it can barely be alive. But Casey absolutely adores it, worships it every day when she waters it and he sees himself doing all the things she does, crossing every T and putting in all the dots. 

It’s not like he suddenly likes it. If anything he hates it even more. 

But, somehow, that seems to be the only connection he has with Casey for that brief period of time (other than the texts he sends her at every hour). Merle and him? They share her, and he can’t see himself just _not_ taking care of it, because of that. 

When she comes back home, he informs her, in the driest voice he owns, arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“Merle has missed you.”

“She did?” She asks him with her eyebrows raised, suitcase still in hands, managing to look every bit as unsurprised as she appears. 

“A lot.” He replies, serious. 

“I see.”

“And it’s a lot of work to take care of it every day, so you better not be leaving any time soon.”

Casey still doesn’t look impressed. She eyes him strictly for a moment, still looking like a businesswoman with her high ponytail and professional blouse.

“Okay.” She utters matter-of-factly. 

“Good.”

He pulls her in for a kiss against the front door, and Casey has no time to check on Merle before he drags her to his room. 

**IV.**  
Derek sees her in the quad, one time. It’s not often that they see each other around, normally his classes are in the north building, and hers are at the west ones, but there she is, sitting on a bench, a pen holding her bun, and a book almost up to her nose. 

He sits by her side, wants her to notice him. Ten minutes roll around, then fifteen, and he is getting impatient, Geez, what if he was a stalker? She’d be in serious trouble right now, and wouldn’t even realize it until it was too late, and he’d have to drag her out of whatever mess she’d have put herself in. 

“Jesus, Spacey, don’t you pay attention to your surroundings? That’s how you get caught by psychos.”

Her gaze finally wanders to him, and her eyebrows lift, as if he hadn’t been sitting there for the last twenty minutes. 

“Derek. What are you doing here?”

“As unusual as it may seem to you, Princess, I _study_ here.”

“Not that, you _moron_.” She rolls her eyes, in a classic Casey fashion. “I mean, what are you doing here, sitting at this bench?’

“Thought I’d say hi. So, hi.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes?”

She bites her lips, makes her eyes wide in that way she knows he can’t say no to, and shoots. 

“Are you busy now?”

He sighs. 

“I got a class in thirty minutes.”

He doesn’t ask why, doesn’t want to give her any openings to whatever it is she is going to ask. 

“That will do.”

(Of course she doesn’t ask, at this point he’s become Mr. McSucker with how much he gives in to her).

She fumbles in her bag, probably looking for something (colored notes? A book the size of Ontario that will kill him of boredom? Only God knows what Casey hides in there). 

She takes out a small notebook and a standard blue pen. 

“I need to interview someone for my Psychology assignment.” 

Casey stares down when she explains, trying to do something to keep herself busy. Derek can see her blush, and damn it, he is totally screwed, he is sure of this. 

“What is it about?”

She mumbles. 

“Momentsthattouchedyou.”

“I’m sorry, what? I don’t speak klutzilish.”

“Der-ek! I said it was about... moments. That touched you.”

“The last thing that _touched_ me, was your mouth in my...”

“DER-EK! You’re insufferable, do you know that?” 

She glares at him, clearly not impressed.

“I guess it won’t do if I say the chocolate chip pancakes you did this weekend too, right?”

She raises a perfectly done eyebrow (he had seen her late at night looking in the mirror and plucking the hair out, until they were shaped to arch at the end). 

“I will not dignify that with an answer.”

“That’s already one."

“You think you are so smart, don’t you?”

“I am the most amazing person on this planet, Case, _of course_ I’m smart.” 

She looks at him, long and suffering, probably assessing if it’s worth the hassle to interview him (for his sake, he hopes it’s not).

She sighs and writes on her notes.

“Okay. Moment: first hockey win.”

“That’s a good one, Case.”

“Can you describe it to me?”

Derek takes a mocking posture, deepens his voice so that it sounds like the old radio guys, narrating corny soap operas. 

“Oh, my first glimpse of the glorious hockey star I was destined to become. Good times.” He sighs. “You know how it goes, Spacey. At the tender age of eight, I was only a little boy with one big dream…”

“Finally learn the alphabet?”

“Very funny. But no. To become the greatest hockey star _of all time_. And the only thing that stood between me and victory was a guy named Connor Wazowski. He was older, big and dumb, you know, exactly your type, Case.”

She doesn’t laugh, only sighs, shaking her head in disbelief. 

“I wonder what that says about you, you know.”

“Shit, I forgot I can’t mock your taste in guys anymore.”

“At least now those endeavors have an upside.”

He can’t help but snort at her, and be a little impressed at how she is referring to what they’ve done (past, as in already over and completed) as if it’s just another of their stupid fights.

She ignores him, brushes past the subject. 

“Why did I ask you, anyway? This is torture.”

“Will you just let me finish?”

“Can you please not take forever? I need to go to class.” 

“Jesus, Casey, you can’t rush the perfect story. _Anyway_ , I had to pass him if I wanted to score. Basically, I beat him so much he went home crying. I was almost banned from the junior league, but I scored our winning goal, and that’s it. The beginning of a stellar career as a hockey star.”

“Thanks. Next time just email it.” 

“Thought you wanted it with drama. Anyway, send me a copy of what you’ll write later.” 

She answers, while collecting all of her things. 

“Sure.” 

“Nice. Was that it?”

“Yes. You could have been less annoying, but then again, I guess that couldn’t have been you.”

“And you could have asked someone else, but then again, it would’ve been a lost opportunity for you to nag me.”

“Whatever.” Casey rolls her eyes, in a half smile. “See you, D.”

“Bye, Case.”

She kisses his cheek in goodbye as they part ways, and Derek doesn’t question the good mood that suddenly strikes him. 

She emails him later that week with an essay she wrote about the interview. It was titled _Derek Venturi: the case studies of an egomaniac evil mastermind, by Casey McDonald_.  
  
She gets full marks for that. (Or it wouldn’t have been Casey at all).

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon, Derek is watching a game, and, for once, not on his recliner. Instead, he lays down on the couch, head turned to the TV.

Casey comes fresh from the shower, and it was a direct affront to fair play that she smelled so good (sometimes she just asked to be pranked).

She sits on the floor with her manicure kit, and does her nails. 

A small secret he’s going to let you in: sometimes he likes Casey. When they are in solitude, and everything is calm and peaceful, he likes her company, to have her by his side, with the light weight of the silence that stretches between them. (They might not do a lot of talking, then, but this is the most effective form of communication that they have).

So he watches from the couch while she colors every nail a pale blue (like her eyes, he thinks, and then tries to remember a time when blue didn’t immediately made him think of her, but can’t). She blows on them, then waits for it to dry with her fingers spread.

He has the sudden urge to grab them, see how her palms fit into his. So he takes them. 

Derek turns her hands, studying them, and, if he tried, he’d probably be able to recall a different story about every finger she has. He doesn’t know what that says about him. 

Beside his, her hands look tiny and delicate. He runs his thumb through her palm, then laces their fingers.

When he dares to look up, he sees Casey’s eyes boring into his very soul. She gazes away and, slowly, rests her head against his.

It felt… nice. 

He is almost dozing off when she turns in her place, bending her head toward his and kisses him.

It’s soft and unrushed, and it tastes like rain. It’s lazy.

It’s like that afternoon

“Look at that girl in there.”

“Who?”

“In the green hat. Don’t stare so much, Spacey, she’s going to notice your giraffe neck.”

Derek rolls his eyes, hands in his pockets, walking down the street. He had hoped Casey had learned enough about being casual, but Casey _still_ couldn’t pull blasé to save her life. 

“Shut up. Oh, god, what horrible clothes.”

“I know, they make you look normal. Look at the guy she’s talking to. Seems like a fight.”

He mumbles while dragging her to a spot on a building nearby, so they can listen in.

“Derek!” She shrieks. A few people stare at them, and she continues, whispering. “You can’t so blatantly listen to other people’s conversations!”

She point blank refuses to walk, let go of his hands, crossing her arms. He gets closer to her.

“Come on, Case, you know you are dying to know what they’re saying.”

She puts her chin up.

“I’m not.”

“Right, that’s why you keep flicking your eyes in their direction.”

“I am _not_!”

She _sounds_ outraged, but he knows that tone, the way she’s biting her lip and keeps stealing glances at the weird couple fighting a few feet away from them. He grabs her hand and continues to drag her, more confident this time (Casey had always looked for his weaknesses and squeezed out advantages, so he has to conquer his territory when he is winning).

“Keep pretending, Space Case.”

He pulls her to a wall, near a big shop selling jewelry she keeps eyeing, and he rests his back there, hugs her waist, inclines his head to whisper in her ear, like they are lovers. She shivers.

“You know you want to.” He singsongs for her.

She stifles a giggle, hands on his chest to keep the farce, and he just knew she was lying.

She fizzles with his shirt, straining her ears to listen in, while Derek nuzzles her neck. He brings his lips to the shell of her ear. 

“Looks like we got a Truman on the loose. “

“Could be a Derek too.”

“A Derek, when hooked, is blindly faithful. That’s why that is a serious case of troll manning.”

She rolls her eyes, but remains silent. That was still a sore spot for Casey, and he liked to remind her of that special mistake (once in a while he likes to afflict her for that, because, if he stopped to think about it, it kind of stung that Truman had gotten all the chances Derek never had). He listens more. 

She gasps.

“Oh, my _God_! How dare he put the blame of his inexcusable infidelity in her? What a man whore.”

“Some guys never learn how to keep it in their pants.” Derek sighs.

Casey smiles, amused by him, and buries her face in his chest. For all of her little act, she seemed to be quite enjoying the show. 

“He cheated on her with _all_ of her roommates?“

“While she was in the shower, ouch.”  
  
“When is she going to hit him and just dump that piece of shit?”

Derek stifles a laugh, and ends up snorting. He speaks through his shock. 

“I can’t believe you just cursed. I’m so proud of your language right now, Case.” 

“It all _your_ fault.“

“Yes, indeed. And it just took me six years.” 

“Imagine what you’d do in a decade? Oh, God, you’d turn me into a delinquent.” 

Derek laughs then, a full and bright, amused laugh. It’s a rich and vibrant sound, and it makes Casey stare at him, lips curved upward, eyes sparkling, though she tries to hide it. 

“Casey, it would take me a hundred years to change you.” He tries for a jab, but his tone is fond, still influenced by the laugh she forced out of him. “Now, listen, it’s getting good.” 

“It was already good before.”

“Shut it, Head Case.”

She hugs him, and stills against his chest. 

“What? She forgave him? Oh, poor girl.” 

Derek snorts and stifles a laugh, resting his head in Casey’s shoulders. 

“That is the reason we need feminism. To remind us not to forgive a guy for behaving like a pig.” 

They get off the wall they were leaning in. Casey wraps her hand in his arm, but he doesn’t like to walk like that, he feels silly and romantic, so he just tangles her hand in his. 

“That was so anticlimactic. I could already have my lenses with me and I lost it for this shitshow? I need a refund.”

“That director has serious issues.” 

“I blame the cast.”

“You won’t _believe_ what happened.”

Casey barges into his room, then stops dead midway to his bed.

“What?” He sputters. “Spill it, Spacey.”

She says nothing for a minute, then shakes her head. Derek knows that in Casey’s mind she is telling herself to focus and, only because she is the most bull headed person he knows, ignores the fact he is laying in his black boxer briefs, comic book in hands.

“It’s… I just….”

Derek puts one arm under his head. He pretends not to notice Casey meticulously study every nook and crane of his body with her eyes.

“What?”

Casey licks her lips and swallows, pupils wide open.

“I…”

This shouldn’t make Derek feel so smug, but it kind of does, and he can’t help the smirk spreading through his lips.

“What? Cat got your tongue, Case?” He asks as he stands and gets closer.

She blinks once, then twice, trying to regain her balance. Then.

“No!”

But this is the only answer she is able to provide. He almost wants to laugh, but stops himself short.

He stands right in front of her, takes his lips to the shell of her ear, like it’s a secret, and sees her shiver with the proximity.

“What is it Case? Want to have your way with me again?”

This is more effective.

“Der-ek!” She shrieks and rolls her eyes mumbling. “You sleep with a guy a few times and he gets all cocky about it.”

He put a distance between them and crosses his arms never loosening the smirk.

“Interesting use of words there, Case. Is there something on your mind?”

“How I want to strangle you with my bare hands.”

She imitates his pose.

“I am not _completely_ averse to the idea.”

“Argh! You are just impossible today.”

She pushes him. 

(More like she lightly pushes his chest, but anyway, that was an assault).

He raises an eyebrow at her, because physical fights? They didn’t have those anymore, but he was up to rise to her challenge. 

He is preparing his counterattack, ready to tackle her to the ground.

But before he can do anything, Casey jumps him. She literally jumps him, and he almost loses his footing when he tries to catch her. 

She kisses him with anger, hands in his hair and legs around his hips. He doesn’t need any more incentives to take her to his bed and lay above her. 

When they are like this, it’s easy to forget why they are fighting. Casey is so much better to tolerate with her mouth shut, and when she is naked under him, moving in a way that makes it hard to think and moaning louder and louder with every thrust of his hips, he is almost certain he could paint every building in town with the color of her eyes. 

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Hm?”

“You got in here to tell me something.”

“Oh? Yeah.” Pause. Casey lays in her back, lips curved upward, Derek’s thin sheets covering her from his view. “One of your teammates in my lit class. Apparently the guy is majoring in English and doesn’t even know _Orwell_.” She sighs. “Not that _you_ do, but humanity should expect nothing more from your limited brain. But I digress. He called me and offered to pay me to do one of his papers on 1984, can you believe it?”

Derek turns on his pillow to face her, and her movements are a mirror to his. He sees Casey’s eyes shining, and her smiling at him. He puts his arm under his head.

“Yeah, compared to some of the guys on the team I’m Casey McDonald.” He rolls his eyes for effect. She giggles, looking right into his orbs, her feet dangling with his. “But back to the point, Case. Are you doing it?”

“Der-ek! Are you insane? Of course not! That would be wrong.”

“Why not? You could keep the money and buy me some fancy dinner.”

“It would come from dishonesty. I understand that you would see nothing wrong with that, but I have ethics.”

He rolls his eyes at that. Right. It’s not as if Derek had a very tight code of ethics, but he had guidelines he followed sometimes. (Mostly guilt guided him when he felt he overstepped, then he did something to compensate for behaving like a jerk. Normally the thing would be Casey related, because she’s the only one he did stuff to annoy and bothered to fix).

“It’s money, princess, and we are living in a recession. Some people have nothing, and you’re refusing on the grounds of being _unethical_?” 

“Oh, shut up, Derek.”

Casey tackles him down on the bed and straddles him, sheets falling from her torso to show him what was underneath (not that he hadn’t seen it earlier, but it never seemed to be enough to see Casey naked).

They don’t talk anymore, and Casey buys him pizza on the next week, with money that had mysteriously surged on her bank account. He doesn’t say anything, pretends he doesn’t know where it came from, and let’s her choose what they’re watching. 

It’s always chaos back home. 

Derek had thought that, when they left, the house would have felt emptier, somehow, but that’s never happened.

When they went away for college, he thought the most dramatic of the plays had already been screened. I mean, him and Casey? They had masterfully acted Romeo and Juliet, (because of the animosity setting, of course, it’s not like there was _anything_ romantic between them, not even when they did things that could have been considered couple-y), with roses thrown at their feet and standing ovation from the crowd at the end. 

The thing is, though, the show must go on. Their family lived for the drama, and there just so happened to be a free spotlight. 

So, go on the show did. 

Edwin had been the first one to see the opportunity that had been created by the space they vacated, and tried to fill the role Derek left in his absence. He had done bad pranks and tried to pull off the bad boy slash womanizer figure his brother had been. In the end though, Edwin was fit to play no one but himself, and his brother’s shoes had felt too large to fill. 

Marti and Robbie had been the ones to successfully steal the scene away.  
  
Being the younger, Robbie demanded attention simply by existing. In the first year, nothing in the McDonald Venturi residence had drawn more attention than him, whether it be by force (screaming in their ears when something was wrong) or by being the cutest human being project there ever was. 

As for Marti, she danced to her own beat, and was already a star, whether the others let her shine or not. 

(Lizzie was the only one content enough with her role, happy to remain a secondary character throughout of this).

So their house is always hectic when they go back, and Christmas is a specially frantic event. 

“Derek! Did you eat _all_ of the cookies I baked?”

He does the doe like eyes Casey always does, trying for an innocent look to pledge his case.

“ _Of course not_ , Spacey, I was already full with all the tofu salad you made us eat at lunch. Ask Robbie.”

She eyes him (clearly not sold, but decides to grant him the benefit of the doubt). Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she stares him up and down.

“Just come and help me make more, will you?”

He is about to squeeze his way out of this, throw out something about hockey, or needing to see Sam, or anything, really, but she grabs his hand and pulls him to the kitchen to help. 

Derek complains the whole time, trying to be as disagreeable as he possibly can (he is a master at that). Casey ignores him.

They call Marti and Robbie to help them decorate, and it suddenly becomes a frosting fight. By the time Nora arrives to see what the fuss is about (“Aren’t you a little old to be doing those things?”), the kitchen has been properly dirtied (“Sorry, mom, I take responsibility for the mess, don’t blame it on the children.” “Yeah, Nora, blame it on Casey").

Dinner is its usual cheerful affair, and it’s all bickering over the turkey (footsie under the table). Everyone is especially loud, because they are all especially happy. 

“I was thinking of taking a sabbatical next year.”

Everyone at the table turns to Edwin, the first Horseman of the Apocalypse.

“Instead of going to college right away.”

He is met by silence, but Edwin, never the quitter, continues.

“I have researched extensively, and, not only will it broaden my life experiences, it will also help me find better jobs in the future.”

More silence. Casey is the first to work through her shock (only the more proof that the girl is unable of remaining quiet, no matter what).

“Well… I, for one, think this is a great idea, Edwin, that you are thinking of your future, but I believe you should face this with the utmost responsibility.”

“Thank you, Casey, I will. Liz, what do you think?”

(And this is clearly the rehearsed part of this little stunt his brother is pulling. Derek almost scoffs).

“This is great, Ed!”

That is the only thing Lizzie is capable of uttering without stabbing her eyes with her own fork, Derek muses. 

“Well, this is bullshit.” Marti provides. 

“Marti, not I’m front of your brother!”

“Sorry, Robbie. This is the biggest pile of dung I’ve ever heard.”

George sighs, defeated. Nora interferes. 

“Well, dear, this is great! But are you sure you thought it through?”

Edwin all but beams from where he sits. 

“Of course, Nora! As through as backpacking can be, I mean, it can become quite unpredictable, I cannot even calculate the variables.”

Derek’s step mother frowns, while still trying to remain positive and supportive. 

“Well, sweetie, are you sure you want to do it? It doesn’t look much like you.”

Derek internally sighs. Of course his brother would have, somehow, wanted to follow in his steps, even though he didn’t exactly take said steps himself. 

Marti butts in again.

“Yeah, it looks like something Derek would do.”

“I thought it could all be a part of the experience.”

“To act dumb and not think?”

Derek scoffs.

“Thanks, Smarti, it’s so good to hear what you think about your favorite brother.”

“I work with facts.”

His brother continues, as if he wasn’t interrupted in the first place.

“I mean, it’s all part of the plan, right? To work under the circumstances that are given. It will all be a part of a learning process and experience.”

Nora bites her lips, uncertain. 

“If that’s what you want, dear. What do you think, George?”

His father shakes his head, already lost. (The man is lost in all areas of life, Derek has to admit).

“What about your expenses?”

“I saved a little bit from when I worked pat time on that computer store. I have enough for the plane tickets, and I will save some more until the end of the school year.”

“Sounds good enough to me for now.”

Casey searches his eyes from over the tablecloth, raises an eyebrow. Edwin turns his way.

“What do you think, bro?”

“Sounds nice.”

“Cool.”

The following conversation seems much tamer and unimportant compared to that. 

“You really think it’s a good idea?”

Casey has her arms crossed as she rests body on the door frame of his bedroom.

Derek shrugs from his bed, where he lays playing a game in his phone. 

“It’s Edwin. Give him a few days without a plan and he will go insane.”

“I _know_.” Casey widens her eyes for effect. “Why do you think I’m worried?”

She enters, closes the door softly behind her with a click and sits on his desk chair, putting one foot underneath her.

“Because _you_ are so deep into the planning control freak mode that now it encompasses other people’s plans?”

“Other people’s _lack_ of plans.”

“That’s what I said.”

She breathes once, deep.

“Be honest, you thought it was terrible too. This has to be the blankest face you’ve ever pulled. Why didn’t you say anything?”

He keeps his phone, puts it under his pillow where he can’t use it.

“Wasn’t my place. Kid has to grow into himself some day. Realize he can’t be me.”

She sighs, frustrated, and he can feel every bit of it in his cells too. But Edwin must grow into himself one day, and, if he must go to Europe to find out, he’s not going to stop him.

“Sometimes I just want to strangle you.”

He smirks at her, and answers smugly. 

“We’ve had that conversation before.”

“Well, it doesn’t make it any less true.”

“My last remark still stands.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“Keener.”

“Rascal.”

“Freak.”

“Cad.”

“Dork.”

Casey stops for a moment, brow furrowed.

“That’s not really an insult.”

“Isn’t it? Well, I guess I could replace it with aberration, then.”

She smiles, shakes her head. Her hair frames her face nicely when she does that. He has the sudden urge to put this into one of his short films, to keep the vision it creates somewhere, doesn’t want to let it just be forgotten.

“Good night, Derek.”

“Night, Case.”

She looks at him for an instant, standing by the door, and lingers there for a minute, one hand holding the doorknob. He raises from his spot on the bed, stops right in front of her and places a long kiss to her lips. 

She opens the door facing him and then leaves.

The semester has just started again, and it’s their last one. Casey cuts vegetables in their tiny kitchen, listening to some Italian song and sipping red wine, because she thinks it makes her more grown up. 

“You are grown up, Case, just face it.”

“Well, technically. But I want to practice for when I have my degree and an actual job. This is what I want my life to be like.”

Derek sits on their plastic table, next to her speakers, and watches her while she fumbles around, certainly committing a crime against the Italian language in the process of trying to sing to the lyrics.

They talk about the silliest things, their impressions for their classes, their Professors, and he jokes about his arriving late in his first day. She laughs and admonishes him at the same time, which he thinks is her standard reaction to everything related to him, these days.

They eat in silence, that silly Italian song as a soundtrack. The food she cooks is amazing, something different to start their last semester, she says, even though it’s still one of the healthy shits she insists on making. 

They finish their meal, but refuse to stand up. Instead they remain sitting and talk some more. Casey tells him she has no idea what to do after graduation, and he sarcastically remarks “no one does, Spacey, don’t act like a special snowflake". 

She kicks him under the table, but takes the hand he offers her. 

And, though it certainly looks like it, it’s definitely not a date. Not when he brings her fingers to his lips and softly presses his lips to them, while she is talking about one of her projects. Not even when he kisses her goodnight in front of her door. 

It’s just a normal night in with his favorite keener, that’s what it is. (So what if she knows him like the palm of her hand? He knows her just like Tarantino).

They have a class in the same building. It’s on a Thursday afternoon, from 2pm to 4pm. They don’t always go together, but sometimes they stumble upon each other. 

They nod on the hallways and she says hello, while he insults her with a different name every time. 

Once, she spazzes through him and he calls after her. She turns around to face him, books perched In one of her arms (and he could think about it, but he’d rather not lose himself by thinking of how absolutely ravishing she looks with her glasses, ponytail and skirt).

He stands in front of her, hands in his Jeans pockets, smirking. She gets closer, plays with the cuffs of his jacket, near his wrist, with her free hand. 

Next thing he knows, she is shoving her books to him, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him to the library. He follows, even though he is not one of her lackeys, who do you take him for, Case?

(Doesn’t matter, the only thing that does is that she is dragging him like her boyfriend around. Which he isn’t. Absolutely not.)

He takes her out for coffee, afterwards.

“Derek, wake up.”

He hears Casey’s voice while he lays on his back, sprawled on the bed. He tries to ignore her and continue in his peaceful slumber, turning away from her and messing up the covers.

“Fuck off.”

She shakes him, whispers softly, closer to him.

“Derek, please.”

He remains where he is, mumbling incoherently. The mattress dips as he feels her sit beside him.

“Derek.”

He half opens his eyes, sees her bright blue orbs shining in the darkness. He wants to grab his phone to check the time, but it feels like too much work right now, and why wasn’t she asleep? 

“Whatever it is, wait until tomorrow.”

She lightly puts a warm hand on his bicep, nails lightly digging into his flesh. 

That could mean what he thinks it does, but it also could be something totally different and lame, like there is a bug in her room. He doesn’t bite.

He puts his weight in one of his elbows, a mixture of annoyance and excitement running through his veins (it’s weird how Casey related that feeling is).

He asks, slower this time, a no bullshit tone of voice. 

“What do you want, Casey?”

She blinks, looks down for a second, then bites her lips, embarrassed . 

She hopes he understands, and he does.

He drops down the bed, sighs heavily, annoyed he had been awoken. 

“You’re so fucking annoying, you know that?”

Casey looks sheepish, ashamed almost, but waits patiently for him to give in.

“Do I go back to my room, then?”

He scoffs.

“You already woke me, anyway.”

Casey half giggles as she tangles her hands in his hair, before kissing him and suffocating the sound. (Did she really think he would have refused sex? Seriously, he was still Derek Venturi, last time he checked).

He pulls her to the bed more fully, to make her lie down, then tackles her underneath him as he kisses her hard and long. He is driven by his one goal, and his hands make fast work of her shirt. 

Her nipples are hard when he pinches them, still irritated that she woke him up, half wanting her to pay for that (and maybe she liked the rough treatment, because they are as hard as pebbles under his fingers, Casey’s body writhing beneath him).

He grabs her hips, hopes it will bruise, just like the mark he left on her right shoulder with his lips did last week. She gasps, and marks his back with her nails, making him hiss.

Derek trails his fingers down to her pajama bottoms, and slips them underneath her panties. She is dripping wet when he finds her between her legs.

“Were you touching yourself, Case?”

She swallows a cat like noise in her throat, while he watches the movement with his eyes. He plays her harder and she throws her head back. 

“Yeah.”

“And that wasn’t enough, was it?”

Her hips can’t seem to stop moving, like living beings with minds of their own. 

“I kind of wanted your dick.”

And, hearing Casey say that word shouldn’t make him any harder than he already was, but it does. And, fuck, he wants to press forward and just skip to the main act already. 

He rids her of her pants and she takes care of her underwear while he handles his own clothes. 

She wraps her legs around his hips, with her hands tangled in his hair, nails digging through his scalp as he enters her and just…

Fuck.

He voices that aloud, and it takes a moment for him to get used to the feeling of her and not immediately give in. 

He thrusts her deep and hard, then, still reeling from a place of anger that, honestly, could have fueled their whole night if he had any say in that.

Casey screams her lungs out, and she is so tight, tighter than ever (she definitely likes it on the rough side of things, and he is more than happy to oblige because, really? That’s all she makes him want to act like). 

Derek digs his nails to her hips, bites her shoulders, and she presses hard on his biceps, arching down, heels on his back. 

He picks his pace and her legs on him are like a cage, the way she holds on to him with every limb and whimpers his name in his ears. 

She comes down hard, with a scream, and he follows right after. 

He rests in head in the hollow of her neck, breathless, more tired than if he had run a whole marathon. She runs a hand through the locks of his hair, like a caress.

“God, Derek.”

He smirks and his lips graze her collarbone. 

“I am that good, huh.”

“That was a team effort.”

“Then I guess I just won MVP.”

Casey scoffs at him, utterly spent and content.

“You are so full of yourself.”

Derek runs his thumbs on the curve of her hips softly, in lazy circles.

“You mean cocky? I guess I really am that.”

She giggles in his ear, and that makes him smile. 

“Fuck off, you jerk.”

“Gosh, you’re cursing again.”

“Yeah, your bad influence on me.”

He lifts his head, touches his nose to hers, eyes closing. 

“I like that.”

He kisses her, without any rush and she responds. 

He didn’t think he could be ready so fast again, but somehow he is. 

Casey hums in pleasure when he enters her again, gently. This time, they take their time to finish, he works her up unhurriedly, and she meets him halfway every time. She doesn’t scream, just gasps and moans quietly, throwing her head back or touching his forehead with hers. 

And it was probably because Derek was already awake, anyways, but they don’t sleep until the sun breaks out on the horizon. 

**V.**  
The semester is almost over, and the both of them are overly emotional and irritable, going crazy with all of the things they have to do. 

Casey barges into his room, unannounced. He sits in his desk, with his laptop turned on, working on one of the projects he is due to deliver. He doesn’t even spare her a glance before answering.

“Whatever it is, babe, I can’t.” 

“Please, Derek? I need to return this book ASAP.”

He swears if he looks her way, she will have turned on her big eyes. That’s precisely the reason why he keeps his eyes firmly locked on the screen in front of him.

“I got to finish my project by the end of the day. I really can’t.” 

“But I really need to give this back to the library, or else I won’t be able to pick any more, and I have to finish my thesis too.”

Derek almost doesn’t think when he fishes for the keys to the Prince in his pockets and holds them in his fingers.

“Fine. Here, take this.”

He finally dares to look at her, and finds her blue eyes huge with shock, jaw dropped. 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah, just go and get out of my sight. 

Casey beams, jumping a little up and down before walking (more like jogging) in his direction. There’s a smile on her face that’s probably worth a million dollars. 

“Thank you so much, Derek! You won’t regret it.”

“If there’s even one scratch, I’ll prank you like we were fifteen again.”

“I’ll make it up to you. Love you, bye.”

She grabs the keys from his hands and kisses his cheek, sloppy and loud, cradling his face in her palms. Then, she runs, and he smirks to where she stood. 

It’s not until three hours later, with his project done and sent, that it really strikes him what it was that she had announced.

He paces in his room for an hour (effectively losing precious end of the semester time he could be using to do _other things_ that did not include his half mad step sister), dwelling on how to act up on this, before he decides to just confront her about it. (If there’s something they’re good at, is being confrontational).

So he goes to her door, and, for what seems like the first time he met her, actually knocks. He doesn’t wait for a reply to declare, decidedly.

“Case? We need to talk.”

Of course, her being Casey, she wouldn’t make it easy for him. 

“Not now, Derek.” 

He sighs tiredly, preparing himself for a long night.

“Yes, now, Spacey.”

Her voice comes muffled from the other side, but he can feel her mad at him (could see her mad at him through a thousand doors). 

“I’m busy.”

“With what?”

She doesn’t answer for a while, and he can hear her pacing nervously. That eases him, somehow, to know that she was doing something he could picture in his head. There’s always a small comfort when she acts like herself, and he takes it.

“Things.”

She sounds unsure of herself, the neon sign pointing to a lie.

“Like?”

More silence follows.

“My new… library… membership. Card.”

Derek wants to scoff, but limits his reaction to an unseen (and noiseless) eye roll.

“Uh huh. Three weeks before we graduate?”

“Yeah?”

She was still the worst liar he new, no doubt about it.

“You are the worst liar I know.” Somehow, that doesn’t sound at all like the insult he was aiming at. Instead, it comes out with its edges soft (like her bed).

He is suddenly too tired to play at this game they are playing, he realizes with a start. Has been tired for some time. 

“Open up, Casey, please.”

“I don’t want to see you, right now.” Her voice wavers at the end. 

He can expect that. He wouldn’t want to see himself either, if he was her. But then, whatever this thing was, would be over. 

“I guess I will just have to bring down your door, then.” 

He is met with overwhelming (if not nervous) silence, and, if he squints, he may see her through the walls, popping her eyes and wondering if he’d actually follow through with his promise. 

He starts counting out loud.

“One… two…”

Before he can get to three, however, she has barged the door open, eyes like a dare, mouth in a firm line, jaw set. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest, pushing her cleavage together. 

(For the love of God, don’t you dare look, Venturi, and is quite proud when he doesn’t).

“What.”

It’s not like Casey could be scary, per se, but, in moments like these, she instilled fear in him. She looks serious, no hints of a smile on her. He digs for a funny line anyway.

“You owe me an explanation, little miss.”

She raises one eyebrow in defiance.

“I hardly owe you anything.”

Ouch. 

“Well… don’t you want to hear what I have to say?”

She bites her lips, a tinge of uncertainty going over her features, not totally sold out on the idea. 

“That may depend.”

“Fair.” He muses.

Derek opens his mouth, but, for once, nothing comes out of it. He knew he was a smart little mouth, couldn’t shut up for the life of him when he was fighting Casey, and here was, no sound at all being made. 

He stands there, getting large sums of air through his lips, trying for something to say and then changing his mind mid way. 

“This is illuminating, thank you.”

He stops, stares at her, then sighs tiredly.

“Casey, please, just… I’m trying, okay? This is hard for me.”

She takes a step his way, raising her voice and running her hands through her hair.

“It wasn’t for me.”

They are both very angry, openly shouting on the small hallway of their tiny college apartment, where there is barely enough space to have their normal brawls. This fight might just make it blow up in the air in pieces. 

“Well, congrats, Casey! You are queen of your emotions, have a cake, please, for all the domain you have over what you feel.”

“Well, Derek, you would have been able to know how you feel too, if you actually acknowledged you have feelings in the first place!”

He is pacing in her direction, stopping to stand before her. 

“Geez, Casey, how hard could it have been for you? Just one more label to put on your emotions, you must have had a party to celebrate it.”

“It was damn hard for me to accept that, and you know it!”

“ _It wasn’t for me!_ ”

That causes a cease fire. 

She stalls, before being able to pronounce anything, standing with her mouth half open, gawking at him like a fish in the land.

“What?”

It’s his turn to be silent for a moment, before admitting.

“It wasn’t hard. For me. I knew it, since almost the beginning.”

And here’s the thing. Casey was something he did not want to learn. He grudgingly picked her up, her habits and quirks, until he mastered her. He had no idea what to do with the knowledge he had gathered, like little pieces of a puzzle he kept collecting through the years, just because. And there was nothing left for him to do except use it to hurt her, because that was the only way he knew how.

She wasn’t like hockey or filmmaking, things he liked to waste his time on. She was just all over his space, and then he picked her shards off the floor, because, if he left her there, he might just stumble in the mess she left in her wake.

He didn’t _willingly_ set sail to discover her, but he did. Slowly, and, surprisingly, not with a lot of effort. 

“I love you, Casey.”

He learned her with a grudge, until he knew her by heart. 

She smiles softly though the slight tears that are gathering in the corners of her eyes. 

When he kisses her, it feels like gathering all the pieces he had collected of her through the years, and turning them into love. (Learning it had always been love).

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I post to this website, and also the first one I wrote in english. (YAY) I hope you guys enjoyed it. At this point I'm so deep into proof reading and editing that I feel like I just gave birth and what you have just read is my little baby. I really liked writing it, and it was a challenge for me to both finish and develop Derek and Casey as characters. I feel like they are really complex, and their relationship is made more of undertones to settings than it is in how they behave or what they say to each other, and I hope I could express that.  
> So, here it is. My version of the "Derek and Casey have sex and try to work their relationship from there" trope.  
> Overall, I'm damn proud.  
> If there's any grammar or spelling mistakes just let me know.  
> Reviews make my heart smile :)


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